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Bernstein? From that movie, All the President’s Horses ?”
    “It was two guys, Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein in All the President’s Men . It was a book first.”
    “Only that don’t really apply to this situation, because this here clearly ain’t about the money.”
    “I think it’s way too early to be drawing that kind of a conclusion. Three grand is three grand. One of us is going to have to account for it to Shelby.” You idiot, she wanted to add but didn’t. Instead, she glared down at him, now very aware of their height difference, about four inches.
    He folded his arms across his chest and seemed to stand a little taller. “The SUV was a block away. There was no sign of entry. Plus, Reverend Jimmy had pocket money on him. It wasn’t some crackhead looking for a fix that shot him. Reverend Jimmy wasn’t killed for the three grand.”
    “We don’t really know why he was killed.”
    “Maybe you don’t. But there ain’t a lot of doubt in my mind or the mayor’s, for that matter.”
    She’d wondered how long it was going to take before he brought his uncle into it.
    “The mayor is working the case now too?”
    “I report back to him, yes, Ma’am. That’s how he wants it.” He wiped his mouth and looked away. “What I mean is after I talk to Shelby. An FYI kind of thing is all.”
    “Fine. You work your side of the block, and I’ll work mine,” she said.
    “I can’t tell you what to do. But you need to know I already got me a suspect.”
    He pointed with his nose toward the clinic. “Stephen Nicoletti. Doctor Death up there. The one that treats all the whores in the state. Reverend Jimmy was putting him out of business. Every heard of House Bill 674? Let me tell you what happened before you showed up. Old Dago Steve drives up here, big as you can please, in his SUV, but not until an hour after the body was found. One of our officers tried calling him at home, half an hour earlier. Guess what? He wasn’t there. So I go straight up to his office to question him. And what do you know? He can’t account for his whereabouts at the time of the murder. Six a.m. in the morning. I’m not making this up. His actual words were ‘I’m sorry. I can’t disclose my whereabouts,’ like he could care less what I thought, the damned wop. Just daring me to arrest his sorry ass. Tell you what. We get us an eyewitness that can put that vehicle anywhere near here at the time of the shooting, Shelby and the DA and I will be going to the grand jury. Of course, you can come along if you like. I know how things work in the department. In the meantime, you want to follow the money trail, that would be your business.”
    “Thanks,” she said. “You’ve been very helpful.”
    They’d come to the fuck-you moment awfully fast, but this was it.
    He looked at her as if she’d just walked away from him on the dance floor in the middle of a slow one.
    “So, what’s next then? Are you going to take my word for things or maybe you want to talk to the baby killer up on the hill yourself,” he said.
    The way you’re handling things , she thought, I’m going to have to follow up on everything you do .
    “We can read each other’s reports,” she said. “That’s probably the best way to proceed from here.”
    He adjusted his string tie, pulled it up and down a little, and acted as though he was going to say something, but didn’t.
    “I assume the envelope’s been dusted for prints?” she said.
    “Of course. What do you think I am, some kind of damn rookie?” He gave her another one of his Elvis snarls.
    He must practice the snarl, she concluded. He probably stands in front of the mirror for hours until he gets it down just right.
    “Good luck on your, whatever it is you’re doing over in Madison,” she said as he was walking away from her.
    He turned and walked back towards her, on the verge of invading her space, making Darla hold out a palm to stop him.
    “I’m sure I know how you feel about